The Last Straw
by KJaneway115
Summary: Chakotay is at the end of his rope. A ficlet set sometime late in Voyager's journey. Chakotay's POV.


_A/N: Thanks to Miz for the thoughts and feedback, and mostly just for listening. _

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**THE LAST STRAW**

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_This is the last straw, _I think. But then I remember how many times I've thought this when it comes to her. This isn't the first time, and it probably won't be the last. I've been her first officer for six years, her friend for almost as long, and from the first moment I set foot on the bridge of this damned, blessed ship, we've been caught somewhere between utter madness and total perfection.

Now, as I try to muddle through my conflicting emotions, I wonder what love truly is. Is it some profound connection between souls and spirits? Or is it caused by a random combination of DNA and hormones? Are we designed to fall in love, to be in love, to _live_ in love? If so, why do we fall in love with the wrong people? I seem to have an overwhelming talent for that.

In my teens, I fell in love with a girl who was two years older than me, infinitely smarter, and incredibly beautiful, but she never even so much as glanced in my direction. She was the first. Then there was Seska and Kellin. And Kathryn. Always Kathryn. Why can't I fall for a girl who falls for me, too? Just once? Someone who won't betray me or use me or use me up? Someone who will give me as much as I want to give her? Just once, why can't I fall for _that_ girl? Why can't _she_ be the one I feel passionately about?

I don't know. But I don't think it will happen.

Sometimes I wish that I could eliminate my feelings for Kathryn, extricate them from myself, surgically remove them. Sometimes I think there is an invisible rope that tethers us. It's always there, pulling me towards her, her pulling away. I wish that I could cut that rope and tear it into a million pieces, so it could never be reassembled. Sometimes I pretend it's not there and I allow the line to go slack. But that's always the moment when she gives a gentle tug and brings me back to her, and no matter how many other women I run to, that rope is still there, and the minute I think I've escaped, I feel that pull again, like a noose around my neck, choking me, asphyxiating me, holding me back.

It's not all like a hanging. I'm not a raging bull being jerked along by the matador against his will. It's not all bad. And sometimes I think that's the worst part.

There are days when I drink in her scent and bask in her presence. She holds my hand, and it's all that I want in the world. I do something that makes her smile, and I have never felt happier. I make her laugh and I am flying high above the clouds, or out among the stars, in our case. She looks up at me with those perfect blue eyes full of trust and humor and a million unanswered questions and I think, _I don't need anything else_. My whole world is right there in those two stormy, blue-grey ovals. In those moments, I think, _why would I ever want to deny the way I feel? _My love for her is so clear, so perfect, so pure. For one second, I am blissful as all the potential for something incredible between us is right in front of my face.

So I think, _she must be able to see it, too._ How can she not see it? How can everyone on the whole damn ship not see it? I feel like the ties between us, the current of electricity that sizzles and crackles when we are in the same room, the rope that binds us together, must be painfully obvious to everyone; they are just too polite to say anything. But then I wonder if it's all in my head. Maybe there is no current between us, no tie, no invisible rope. Maybe the whole thing is in my mind, and no one says anything because there's nothing there to say anything about.

I think - no, I _know_ - I have to get her out of my mind. Out of my heart. Somehow, I have to. But how do eradicate your feelings for someone you see every day? How do you make yourself stop loving a person whose smile lights up your entire world, whose voice reverberates in your soul, whose touch makes you feel complete and safe and peaceful and whole? That part of myself that makes me fall in love with the wrong girl - that faulty DNA, that bad hormone, that wrong spirit, that broken soul - how do I cut it out, remove it, extract it? How do I eliminate _that_ from myself? Would I still be me if I did?

_This is the last straw_, I tell myself. I am going to delete the photos I have kept of her. They only buoy my false hopes. I am going to erase the messages between us that I have saved on my computer terminal. The next time she asks me to dine with her, I will say no. I promise myself that I will say no. I raise my hand to hit "delete," and my comm badge beeps.

"Janeway to Chakotay."

"Yes, Captain."

Her voice sounds playful, flirty. In spite of myself, I smile, and my heart jolts a little in my chest. "Have you eaten yet?"

I pause. "No."

"Join me for dinner. I could really use the company tonight."

My hand is suspended in midair above my console. I don't jump at her offer, the way I normally would, and I feel the tension between us. I wonder if that invisible rope is stretched to its limit. I wonder if it's about to break. The silence between us lengthens, and time crawls to a stop. My finger hovers over the "erase" button. I open my mouth to speak, and even I don't know what answer I will give.


End file.
